A Harmless Archfiend
by Fire Bear1
Summary: Accomplished Hunter Alfred F. Jones enters a vampire dwelling to find things not as they seemed from the outside. What will he do about what lies await for him inside?
1. No Bite

_**So, somehow, I'm managing to publish a new story a couple of days after my last new story. That was rather quick.**_

_**This first chapter is called: No Bite.**_

* * *

The mansion rose above the village, nestled on the hill which separated the hamlet from the rest of its country. Its Gothic structure, complete with ugly gargoyles would probably seem foreboding and formidable at night, perhaps with lightning in the sky. However, in the sunlight, Alfred could see the care which the house was lavished with. He marvelled at the red roses which stretched across the building's face. Heather and some sort of pink flower the American was unfamiliar with were lovingly cared for in the flowerbeds which had been carefully made along the front of the house.

He frowned and lowered his binoculars. Surely he was seeing things? There hadn't been flowers at the other places. Then again, perhaps this was to lull people into a false sense of security. Especially unsuspecting girls. Alfred raised his binoculars again and focussed on the windows. Sure enough, the thick drapes were drawn against the sunlight.

Grinning, Alfred replaced the binoculars in his bag. His initial surveillance had come to fruition. Tonight he definitely had a hunt to go to. He scrambled to his feet from behind a large rock on the opposite hill and dusted himself off. It was time to head back to his room and prepare himself.

* * *

Alfred F. Jones was the greatest vampire hunter the world had ever known. At least, that was what he had told the entirety of the village below. And, indeed, every hunt he had gone on had ended in the death of the vampire and him leaving without a scratch. There were plenty of hunters around but Alfred was the most famous in the underground society that knew of the creatures. This was not because of his skill but rather because of what he did afterwards.

When the vamp was dead and its body was beginning to rapidly rot, Alfred would pry open its mouth and rip out its fangs. He had quite the collection in the bottom of his chest of drawers now.

* * *

And tonight he would get another set. Of course, he could go in during the day and have a nice, easy kill. But Alfred relished the thrill of the hunt, of the life and death situations during the fight. He relished seeing the monsters' fear as he drove his silver stake into their hearts.

Cautiously, Alfred approached the manor. His trusty silver stake was shoved through a home-made scabbard. Holy water was in a bottle in his back pocket. The silver cross around his neck was no longer hidden beneath his clothes but swung free, glinting in the moonlight. A crossbow was gripped tightly in his hands. On his head was a Stetson which he considered cool. It didn't really do anything but it made him feel better for not having garlic – he gagged on the smell himself and carrying some around always made him feel ill.

Feeling as though he was as prepared as could be, flitted across the lawn. There was a sign forbidding this but he didn't want the vampire to hear him whilst he walked up the gravel pathway. Of course, Alfred knew that, once inside, it would matter nought whether it had heard him or not. It would be able to smell his blood, hear his heartbeat.

When he reached the door, he took a breath to prepare himself for what would be inside. Then, with a harsh kick, the door was thrown open. Alfred overbalanced a little and barely stopped himself from toppling over. He had been expecting it to be locked. With a frown, he stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him, noting that there had once been a chain. Shrugging, he turned back to the hall behind and surveyed it.

Candles lit the indoors, the flickering light showing Alfred the small tables adorned with vases. In these expensive-looking items were flowers: roses and heather and daisies and whatever those pink flowers were. Alfred blinked at them. Where were the huge portraits? Where were the ugly statues and the suits of armour? Sure, not all the vampires lived in huge mansions like this one. But the ones who did seemed to be the old-school vamps who decorated in the exact same way as their predecessors. Why did this seem like a normal person's home?

And where was the vampire? It should have attacked him or sent someone to fetch him or done _something_ by now. Had Alfred made a mistake? Had he just burst into someone's home, someone who wasn't a vampire?

"Hello?" he called, tentatively, cursing himself for doing so. There was still a possibility that this was a vampire's residence. To find out, he would have to canvass the place, make sure there _were_ no vampires hidden in the dull house.

As he wandered around the house, his guard still up, Alfred noticed how normal everything seemed. There was a TV in the living room, bookcases filled with both the old and the new. The kitchen had a well-worn stove and there was even a microwave. A study contained open files and filing cabinets, a silent computer staring blankly at the large, green, leather chair behind the desk. Inside the games room, Alfred almost lost himself – after all, he couldn't afford some of the latest games and here was a PS4 with all its released games. There was also a pool table, an air-hockey table, an old jukebox with a rather eccentric mix of British and foreign songs and rather comfortable-looking chairs. He found a room with a bar within it along with a room with nothing but a chandelier and floor-to-ceiling windows – perhaps a ballroom.

When he finally ventured upstairs, he found the first odd things in the place. In the first room he tried, there was an empty coffin instead of a bed, its lid propped up against it. Pictures and paintings of beautiful, snowy landscapes hung on the wall. A hat sat on top of a chest of drawers; it looked rather old and worn.

Opposite that room, Alfred found a large bed, the entirety of the space covered in red. Not blood red, as he had first assumed with his glance, but, rather, a more romantic red. Or, at least, that was the feel to it. The place where it seduced its women victims, Alfred presumed.

The next room made Alfred tense and grip his weapon tighter. There was another empty coffin. The landscapes on the walls were of rolling green hills and forests, the occasional fairytale castles poking through them. A small, black hat, also old and worn, sat on its place on a chest of drawers.

After finding a pair of lavish bathrooms, Alfred finally came to the last room (apart from the basement but he didn't want to go down there just yet). This one had yet another empty coffin, though its lid lay haphazardly across it. The landscapes here were also of rolling hills but there was one he was sure contained Big Ben. No hats adorned the chest of drawers but there was a hatstand upon which a thin, worn cloak hung.

He frowned at the coffin. The others had been wholly taken off and laid gently beside it. Why was this one different? It was almost as if something had been in a hurry to get out...

The atmosphere in the room was tense, and Alfred ran his eyes over everything once again. Moonlight managed to light the place as it reached through the slight gap in the thick, green curtains. It caused shadows to conceal the corners of the room. As he gazed around, one of the shadows shifted.

Almost without thinking or registering the movement, Alfred's hands brought up the crossbow and pulled the trigger. A swishing sound filled the silence followed by a small cry of surprise as the arrow found its mark – perhaps not the creature's heart, but certainly its body. Meanwhile, Alfred's fingers moved on automatic, plucking another arrow and loading it. Mathias had said something about fixing the reloading problem – he'd have to speak to him again when he saw him next.

"Stop being cowardly, _vampire_, and come on out," Alfred demanded.

"I-I hardly think I'll be doing that," came a quiet voice. It had a crisp, British accent.

Alfred paused and frowned. Had the vampire just stammered? "Oh? Frightened of a 'mere human', are ya?" There was a silence and, surprised, Alfred stepped further into the room but stopped just short of the coffin. "Are you telling me that you're scared of humans?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh.

Beyond the coffin, the shadow fluctuated. Alfred aimed and pulled the trigger. There was a yelp of surprise. Quickly, Alfred began to reload but the vampire seemed to have realised that Alfred was busy, unable to shoot him again. The noise of cloth moving alerted Alfred and he looked up in time to see a dark shape detach itself from the dark and launch itself at him. A weight hit the hunter and he was knocked backwards, his crossbow and bolt flying from his hands, his hat toppling from his head.

Knowing he was in danger, Alfred quickly grabbed at his silver cross and held it up. A hiss emitted from the darkness and the weight shifted from him. Looking at the vampire, Alfred realised that it was about to flee instead of fight. With a low growl of annoyance, Alfred grabbed at it, catching some cloth. The vampire cried out as it was thrown to the ground. Quickly, Alfred scrambled to his feet, drew his stake and stamped down in the middle of the creature's bulk. It cried out in pain and Alfred placed all his weight on it.

"Well, now. It looks as if you're not going anywhere." With a grin, Alfred pulled a torch from a pouch attached to his belt. He didn't usually use it unless he really couldn't see but he wanted to gloat over his next prize. Clicking it on, he leaned over and pointed the light at the thing. It hissed and turned its head.

The vampire was wearing green and white pinstriped pyjamas, a forest green dressing gown coming undone from his exertions. Its hair, instead of being black like most would expect, looked like messy straw. A scowl adorned its face as it tried to twist away from the light. Alfred flicked his wrist and shone it to the side, knowing the vampire would turn its head to him. Sure enough, the glare of his bottle green eyes pierced his own.

Grinning, Alfred pulled the silver stake from its scabbard. The vamp flinched and turned its head away. "Hey, now. Look at me. You should face your death instead of skulking in the shadows." Slowly it looked back at him, a resigned look on its face. "But first," added Alfred, his grin widening. "I want a look at those pearly whites. I'd like to know what my prize will be like."

"Prize?" asked the vampire, looking horrified.

"Yup," said Alfred. And, before the vampire could turn its head, he used the point of his stake to pull its upper lip away. For a moment, he couldn't understand what he was seeing. Then he tilted the torch and, in its light, he could see the truth. He froze and stared.

Twisting its head sharply away, the vampire growled through gritted teeth. "What the _hell_ do you think you're-" it began but was interrupted by Alfred grabbing its chin and turning it back to him. To get a closer look, Alfred dropped to his knees, straddling the thing, one hand keeping it pinned with a firm grip. This time, he used his fingers to pry its mouth open. The vampire made muffled noises of protest but Alfred ignored them as he stared into the mouth.

There were no fangs.

"What the hell?" muttered Alfred.

However, the vampire seemed to have had enough. With his hands full, Alfred couldn't defend himself from the unnatural strength of the creature. It put all its force into shoving him off and Alfred found himself falling backwards, hitting his head off the side of the coffin. As his head swam and he fought to stay conscious, the creature fled the room.

"Dammit!" gasped Alfred, scrambling to his feet. He swayed, steadied himself on the coffin and rushed from the room. It was just ahead of him, descending the stairs. One of its slippers remained in the upper hall, however, as well as one of the crossbow bolts and, annoyed, Alfred kicked at them as he passed.

On the ground floor, he paused and listened intently, eyes roving over every clue. That was when he spotted a candle near the study – it had been blown out, perhaps in the wake of someone's hurried passing. Quickly, he hurried to the door and wrenched it open. The vampire's wide eyes turned to him and Alfred once again froze in confusion.

It wasn't trying to escape. It wasn't trying to gain sustenance to be able to overpower Alfred. It wasn't even waiting for him with some sort of trap.

The vampire was sitting behind the desk, the receiver of a telephone at his ear.

"Don't come any closer!" it demanded, looking a mixture of annoyed and upset.

"I better get paid well for this," muttered Alfred. Not heeding the vampire's warning – if that was what it had been – Alfred stalked closer. The vampire looked trapped. Perhaps it didn't want to hang up. Perhaps he had realised there was nowhere for it to go. Whatever the reason, it watched Alfred get closer with wide eyes. Reaching the monster, Alfred grabbed it by the back of its neck and threw it to the ground, face down. Its grip on the receiver was not loosened and the phone fell from its place on the desk. However, Alfred could hear that it was still ringing. Who was it calling?

There was a faint click from the earpiece. "Hallo?"

Excitedly, the vampire pulled the receiver to its ear. "Lukas! Jeg trenger hjelp! Jege-!"

But Alfred realised the danger of this. There were two other vampires who lived here. And, if this one called them and they came running, this simple job would become a lot more complicated. He flipped the base of the phone over as the vampire was talking in whatever language it was using and hit the hook, cutting off the call. The vampire froze when he realised this.

"What did you say to him?" breathed Alfred.

"You think I would tell you? It seems you are a very _stupid_ breed of human," snarled the vamp.

Knowing that he wouldn't get very far questioning the vampire on that subject, he changed his focus. "Where are your fangs?"

A bitter laugh escaped the being beneath him. "You got here too late. Some other _hunter_" - oh, the venom in that word - "turned up today and surprised me in my slumber. He held me down and pulled them out. So hurry up and kill me!"

"Huh?" asked Alfred, loosening his grip.

"I can't feed, you blithering idiot! And I can hear your heart, smell your blood. You have _no idea_ about the hunger, the thirst. If I can't feed, there's no point in my being alive. Kill me."

"So you really have been feeding on those poor girls?" growled Alfred, his grip tightening again.

"What girls?"

"The two that've gone missing from the village."

"What?!" cried the vampire. It sounded genuinely upset. For a moment Alfred frowned at the back of his head before letting him go and standing. "What are you doing?" it asked, scrambling to its knees and turning to him.

"You sound... surprised. Did you really have nothing to do with those girls?"

Green eyes surveyed him, puzzling over whether Alfred was worth talking to. Finally, he took a breath and spoke. "Vampires don't just drink blood. We can survive on other things if we are in good health. Of course, every so often we require human blood. However, my- _I_ have been surviving on _donated_ blood. I masquerade as a nurse in a blood bank and collect blood that way. When I have stocked up some, I am careful with it, feasting on the blood of... lesser creatures such as cattle and pets to save the humans' for more dire days.

"But... I was attacked a few days ago by a different hunter while I was out on business. It has weakened me but there's not much of my stock left. There's only one bag in the fridge." It lifted slim, pale fingers to its neck. "And I'm so thirsty," it added, a little hoarse now.

Alfred just stared at it. So he had met the weirdest vampire ever, it seemed. Seriously, what the hell? It didn't kill? Was that why it was dressed in pyjamas and had a study and... everything? It was still a vampire, though. So should he kill it or leave it alone? After all, it couldn't harm anyone without its fangs. Speaking of which, Alfred was rather annoyed that he was missing out on his fangs. Who the hell did this? This was like a breach of the Hunter Code (which was not something he had made up)!

"What did the Hunter look like?" he settled for asking.

"Huh? Oh. Blonde, blue eyes. Rather tall. Didn't even smile while he was pretty much torturing me. He didn't speak, though, so I can't tell you what sort of accent he had." The vampire suddenly blinked and frowned a little. "Wait, why are you asking?"

Considering his options, Alfred stared at the thing in front of him. It had probably killed people before blood donation became a thing. But it was harmless now. And he really wanted those fangs – he was a bit obsessed about collecting them. It was almost as bad as his comic collection. To get the fangs, he would need to find the Hunter. And, to find a blonde-haired and blue-eyed guy that could be anyone, he would probably need the vamp to identify them.

With a sigh, he unbuttoned another pouch and clasped the thing inside. "Listen," he said as he stepped forward. "Maybe we can help each other, hm?"

"How so?" asked the fang-less vamp as he warily watched Alfred crossing the space between them. The thing must have decided not to appear intimidated as it stayed where it was, luckily.

"Well, I need you to identify the Hunter. Do you think you could?" He was now directly in front of the vampire and he slowly inched a hand nearer to it.

"Oh, yes. I'll never forget _that_ face."

"Good," said Alfred and grabbed the creature's arm. Before it had the chance to do anything more than widen its eyes, Alfred plunged the syringe into its neck. "Don't worry," he told it as he heard the sharp intake of breath. "It's only dead man's blood. You'll only be unconscious for a while." He pulled the syringe from it and let go of its arm. The vampire gasped again and clutched at its neck, stumbling backwards till it bumped into a filing cabinet. An ornament atop it tumbled to the ground and cracked upon contact with the ground. This caught the agent of darkness' attention and it reached for it even as it slid down to the ground. Its eyelids fluttered as it tried to refocus on Alfred.

"Bastard," it managed to gasp before its head drooped and it was still.

"Awesome," said Alfred. "Uh... Now what?"

* * *

It had been a lot of hassle to get the vampire here. Alfred wasn't sure how he had managed to get it to his apartment in New York City alive. Firstly, he had had to carry it into the inn – a feat which was more incredible than it sounds as he had to _sneak upstairs_ with it _whilst patrons partied downstairs_. That would have been awkward to explain if he'd been found. Then he had had to put it in his trunk and make sure the sunlight couldn't get in anywhere. When he'd finally managed to get to his apartment, he'd had to find a large box and a blanket to transfer the thing from the trunk to his building.

But he had managed all of this without being arrested or killing the unconscious thing now lying on his bed. He was unsure of what to do when it woke up. It'd probably be angry.

As he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, he heard a strangled cry. With a sigh, he set the mug down and went to see what all the fuss was about. At the door, he was met by the vampire who wrenched open the door and glared at him.

"What the-?" it began in a low growl.

"Woah, cool it, Vamp," Alfred interrupted, raising his empty hands. "You're in my apartment in New York City."

"Like. I. Said," began Vamp (something Alfred had dubbed it when he had been talking to him in the car. Which was stupid but he'd been bored).

"Look, all the cool Hunters come here when they're not out a-hunting. We'll probably find your fangs somewhere in the Big Apple. And you're not dead – you should be grateful for that."

Vamp just glowered for a moment before folding its arms over its chest. "Arthur."

"What?"

"That's my name," explained the small vampire. "At least have the decency to call me by my name and not that vile nickname." He shuddered.

"Cool name," said Alfred. "Now, do ya want a cup of coffee?"

"No," replied Arthur, staring at him blankly. "But if you have any blood, I'll take it."

Alfred hesitated. "Hey, now-"

"Oh, come on. You brought me all the way here to help you look for _my_ fangs and you have the audacity to expect to not _feed_ me? I'll go insane from hunger. And I expect you know what that does to vampires."

He did, of course. There had been times when he had had to have help on those sorts of missions. Instead of becoming too weak from their hunger, vampires tended to go crazy. And, with that crazy came an insane amount of strength. Instead of their usual bites, they would rip their victims to bits, drinking their blood much more like an animal, lapping it up with their tongues. Alfred tried to imagine that sort of thing let loose in New York City.

"I don't have any bags of blood here," Alfred stated with a shrug.

"You should have thought of that before you abducted me."

"Abducted?" Alfred laughed loudly. "That's rich, coming from the likes of _you_."

Arthur flinched but his glare became stronger. "What I have done in the past is of no matter. The present is much more important and what are you going to do about it? This is, after all, _your_ idea so _you_ need to fix it."

The Hunter stared into those green eyes. They seemed to glow now, perhaps due to the better lighting. Quickly sorting through his thoughts and ideas, Alfred settled on the one thing he could really do to solve the problem. With a sigh, he grabbed the vampire's wrist and dragged him through to the kitchen. He pushed Arthur into a seat at the kitchen table and picked up a knife. Turning back to the vampire, Alfred tried not to smirk when he saw the man flinch. Gritting his teeth, Alfred pressed the sharp edge to his forearm. Blood began to seep from the wound, the stinging sensation causing Alfred to wince.

Meanwhile, Arthur was staring at him in shock. Then the smell of blood reached him and he growled, his fingers twitching as he fought to control himself. Rolling his eyes, Alfred moved closer, holding out his arm for him. "Are you sure?" mumbled Arthur.

"I don't make a habit of cutting myself, y'know. Kinda dangerous in my profession." He watched Arthur hesitate for a moment more. Sighing, Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur's hair to hold him steady and pressed his bleeding arm to his mouth. "You're not gonna die on me before I get your fangs."

Alfred felt Arthur suddenly start licking at the blood around the wound. It tickled and Alfred had to fight to keep his arm still and to keep a straight face. Once he had lapped up the surrounding blood, Alfred felt a sudden pressure through his arm as Arthur began to suck. It was painful and unnatural and Alfred felt a need to stop it. He gasped and tried to pull away but, suddenly, strong hands were keeping his arm in place.

Deciding to bear with it for the moment, Alfred kept still once again, a pained expression on his face as he fought not to whimper. After a few minutes, this fight was lost when he began to feel nauseous. This seemed to break Arthur's concentration and he glanced up. Alfred gazed at him through bleary eyes and Arthur's bright green eyes widened. With a gasp he pulled away, letting Alfred's arm drop. The hunter staggered to the sink and began to bring up the remains of his earlier meal.

"God, I'm so sorry," breathed Arthur, perhaps on reflex. Alfred didn't reply, continuing to retch. He felt something take his arm and something was pressed against the cut. Hissing in pain, Alfred wanted to turn round, to snap at the vampire, but he gagged and leaned over the sink more. Water suddenly began to hit the mess within as the tap was turned on. Alfred glanced around, glaring at Arthur. "I told you," the vampire merely muttered, his mouth caked in blood, "I was hungry."

"Yeah, well," was all Alfred could say. What else was there to say? Finally, he straightened up, feeling light-headed.

"You should go to the hospital and get that looked at," said Arthur, rather bossily, nodding at the towel he was using to stem the blood flow.

"Nah. If I do, I have to explain why half my blood was sucked out of my body."

"It was hardly half," said Arthur, indignantly. "If it had been, you would no longer be conscious."

"Experienced in that, are ya?"

Arthur scowled at him. "Well, where do you keep your medical supplies?"

"In my bag, since I need to have them with me. But-"

"Sit down," Arthur ordered, gesturing at the chairs. With that, he exited the room, probably looking for the aforementioned bag. For a moment, Alfred was going to follow him. But his head was still feeling strange so he stumbled to the chair Arthur had been sitting in. When the vampire returned, he was clutching bandages, a bottle of alcohol, scissors and what appeared to be a needle. "Allow me," he said as he sat beside Alfred.

"Er, what's with the-" began Alfred but he cut himself off with a yell as Arthur poured alcohol on his wound. "_What the fuck_?!" he hissed through his pain.

"Oh, terribly sorry," said Arthur brightly. "I thought it would be best to clean it out. After all, that was what I was taught when I was training to be a doctor."

"You're a doctor?" Alfred managed weakly.

"Mm. Not any more. I'm a nurse at the moment."

"Huh," said Alfred, wincing as Arthur began to sew his wound together. He had done this many times before so the pain was the usual dull throb. "Never woulda thought."

"Most vampires are doctors or nurses – after all, where else would you be able to get hold of freely flowing blood."

Alfred nodded slightly, now not trusting himself to speak. He watched as Arthur's deft fingers quickly stitched up the wound. Finishing it off, he cut off the thread not needed and set the sharp objects aside. Both the vampire and the hunter surveyed the work done. Before Alfred could praise the work, Arthur suddenly moved his mouth closer and licked up the excess blood. Alfred stiffened in surprise. When the gentle tongue had finished its work, Arthur picked up the bandages and began to gently wrap it around his arm.

"That-" Alfred tried to say.

"So I'm stuck here until further notice?" asked Arthur, concentrating on the bandage.

"Uh... Well, yeah."

"And then you're going to kill me?"

"Yeah."

Arthur nodded as he tied the bandage tight. "Yes. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to take a shower. Which way is the bathroom?"

Studying Arthur's blood-soaked chin, Alfred grimaced and nodded. "It's the door closest to the front door."

"Marvellous," said his new room-mate. And, with that, Arthur left Alfred with a throbbing arm, a light head and a frown.

* * *

_**Yeah, um. I'm trying to make this different from most vampire stories as much as possible. So have a vampire without fangs.  
**_

_**Jeg trenger hjelp! = I need help! **_

_**The word Arthur begins to say after that but is cut off from completing is the start of the word "Hunter" in Norwegian. Cause Arthur knows a lot of languages. For reasons.**_

_**He also doesn't attack humans any more. For reasons.**_

_**And Alfred has his reasons for hunting vampires and collecting fangs. **_

_**When Alfred mentioned he'd get paid - that'll be explained by him next chapter.**_

_**Also, to clarify: The thing with Arthur drinking Alfred's blood is in no way romantic. It's painful for Alfred and it's just food for a starving and ill Arthur. (When he got attacked by the Hunter he was injured with silver which weakened him but didn't kill him cause it didn't pierce his heart. This is why he can't fight Alfred off but he does have enough energy to push him off at one point. He needs much more human blood to recover completely.)**_

_**In this story, everything that is traditionally thought to hurt vampires does- well, for the most part but that'll be explained later. **_

_**The reason I moved the action from the middle of nowhere to New York was mostly because I had thought of it as being in a city a while back and then accidentally started describing a Gothic house. Though it makes more sense that Arthur (and whoever else) would move to the country to be away from temptation. They may have stopped drinking human blood directly from attacked humans (mostly - they did the hunter who attacked Arthur a few days ago) but they could relapse at any time. Hence Arthur being a little reluctant to drink from Al. And his surprise when he realises he's drunk quite a bit.**_

_**I think there was a lot more I was gonna explain - then I realised I'm gonna do that in the story, anyways, so... If you do have any questions let me know.**_


	2. Hunting in Comfort

The alarm on his phone informed him that he should get up now so he could leisurely get ready. Maybe cook himself a nice, big breakfast. A shower would be nice – as long as he was careful of his injured arm. There was even the possibility of reading a couple of comics before he wandered on down to his actual, permanent job.

An hour later, the alarm informed him that he should really get up now. If he didn't dawdle so much, he could do all the aforementioned things. Well, maybe only reading one comic.

Half an hour afterwards, he was informed that he had to get up _right now_ and rush through everything, forget the comics and he could still get to work on time.

Fifteen minutes after that, the alarm told him he was late and going to get fired.

With a yelp, Alfred tried to leap from his bed. This was difficult as he was actually on the couch. Instead of the hurried departure he had wanted, he landed against his coffee table, his side catching on the corner. Groaning in pain, he scurried to his feet and began to change from his old sweatpants into a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

He glanced at the window, intent on opening the blinds but he managed to stop himself, remembering his guest. The night before, after Arthur had emerged from his shower in nought but a towel, demanding temporary sleeping clothes, they had discussed sleeping arrangements. Since Arthur would sleep from the moment the sun breached the horizon till the moment it sank from view, it was decided he would get the bed. The vampire still had to recover from his original attack and was exhausted from the two attacks following it. Alfred had to get up relatively early for work and would disturb Arthur by moving around – his living room had no door and was open to the hall he would be passing through which would wake Arthur if he was in the living room. Also, Arthur had argued, it was all Alfred's fault that he was there in the first place.

Of course, Arthur had finally won when the stubborn Alfred grew too tired of arguing his own case and agreed. They had both organised Alfred's things so that his fresh clothes and his other essentials would be at hand. That way, Arthur had told him with a condescending expression, Alfred would not need to wake Arthur when he needed to get something from his own bedroom.

Quickly, Alfred gathered his things, trying not to make too much noise, muttering curses under his breath. Finally ready, he grabbed a bagel, smeared peanut butter on it and began to eat and run from the apartment at the same time.

Thankfully, he arrived at the comic book store in time. Relief washed over him and not for the first time. This job was his only stable income of money. He could get money from other sources, of course, but it was by commission. Besides, he really loved working amongst the comics. Half the day he spent reading the new issues, waiting for people to finish work or get home from school and pester their parents to bring them.

"Ah, you made it, Al?" asked the owner with a grin. The shop was quiet so early in the morning. "Thought for sure you'd sleep in this time."

"Ha ha," grumbled Alfred, albeit with a grin. And so another day of work started.

* * *

By the time Alfred returned to his apartment, the sun was setting. He bounded inside and rushed to the window in the living room. The apartment he rented was high in the building and he could always see the sunrise and the sunset. It was a beautiful sight and always filled him with hope, despite whatever his day had been like. Without thinking, he pulled open the blinds and watched, happily, as the last rays disappeared and the sky turned pink.

At that point he remembered Arthur and turned, scanning the room. If he was in the room, he might have been hit by the last bit of sunlight. Luckily, it seemed that he had not emerged from his bedroom yet: no piles of ash greeted his worried gaze.

The noise of a door opening caught his attention and he watched the doorway. Arthur appeared, wearing one of Alfred's larger shirts, and glanced at him. After a few seconds of bleary staring, Arthur grunted in acknowledgement. "Mornin'."

"Good evening," replied Alfred, with a grin.

Arthur grunted again and wandered into the kitchen. Shrugging to himself, Alfred settled himself on his couch with a sigh. Suppressing a yawn, he grabbed the remote and switched the TV on – just as Arthur gave a cry.

Surprised, Alfred launched himself from the couch and ran into the small room. "What? What is it?" he asked, hurriedly.

Turning to him, Arthur folded his arms and glared at the hunter. "There is no _tea_," he growled. "After everything, I was _hoping_ for some tea." Then he leaned against the counter and raised his eyebrow.

"Uh..." replied Alfred, a little confused. "Well, I don't drink tea, so-"

"Of course you don't," sighed Arthur. "You're American."

"Hey!" Alfred was a little insulted at his exasperated tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The vampire opened his mouth to speak but stopped and eyed Alfred warily. "It doesn't matter. Just get me some tea or this night is going to be unbearable."

Alfred raised his own eyebrow. "Unbearable? You mean, 'boring'?"

"Yes."

"How can you be bored? Don't you have things to do when you've got no girls to feed on?"

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur pushed himself up from the counter, his arms still crossed. "Well, let me see. I would read one of my books – oh, wait." He stepped forward, a frown gracing his face. "I can't. I would tend to my flowers." Once again, he stepped forward, closing the distance. "Well, what do you know, I can't do that, either. I like to knit myself scarves and such-like for the winter months and embroider my handkerchiefs. Would you happen to have any wool or thread?"

"Um-"

Another step forward so that he was within arms' reach. "I did not think so."

"You could play one of the games for my XBox. I mean, I don't have the latest-"

"I have probably played them all."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"But... You've _played_ the XBox."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "And just what are you implying with that?"

"Nothing," said Alfred, hurriedly. "Just..." His gaze flickered over Arthur's makeshift nightshirt, white and buttoned up. He latched onto that as a way to change the topic. "Hey, are you wanting new clothes?"

"Hm?" said Arthur, blinking at the sudden change. "Well, yes. But-"

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred interrupted. "You don't have your own clothes because you're _not in your house_. I _get_ it, already!"

"No, I wasn't going to say that, actually," said Arthur with a triumphant smirk. "I was going to say that your clothes would be too big for me."

Alfred stared at the smaller blonde for a moment, trying to decide whether to let himself get riled up or just send him off to his room. Finally, he decided he was too tired for an argument. "I have belts somewhere. Just go get some clothes and whatever and I'll come find them when you're, y'know, dressed."

"Right," agreed Arthur, his smirk disappearing. However, instead of either of them moving, Arthur's unnatural green eyes stared into Alfred's. Again, they seemed to glow. It was almost as if the vampire was reminding Alfred what exactly he was. "However..." he continued, jolting Alfred from his thoughts.

"What?"

He stepped closer again and Alfred fought the urge to run. "It's just... I would really like a cup of tea. Is that too much to ask?"

"Uh, I suppose not," muttered Alfred. "But can you wait until tomorrow. I mean, I-"

Arthur's hand shot out and grabbed Alfred's arm. "No," he growled, his glare intensifying his eyes' glow. "I am still thirsty. Your blood was not enough to quench it. I need something to drink. Whether it is tea or blood does not matter to me."

His arm was trapped – Arthur was using his supernatural strength to keep him from moving. Not that Alfred really wanted to at this point. Moving meant going to buy tea. And going to buy tea meant leaving the flat and he didn't want to have to do that until the next day. He sighed. "Fine," he mumbled. "We can just open this up again," he added, beginning to unwrap his bandages.

"No, wait," said Arthur, grabbing his wrist and pulled him away from them. Now the vampire had both his arms immobile. Alfred tensed. Even though he had no fangs, he could still hurt him if he wanted to – and Alfred was powerless to stop it. Noticing his wide eyes, Arthur rolled his and let go. "You should let it heal. Especially after I went to all the effort to stitch it up." He reached for Alfred's other arm and Alfred let him take it. The vampire's hands gently ran along it, tracing one of the veins. "Make a smaller, shallow cut in this arm. One which I won't need to stitch. After all," he added, turning his bright eyes to Alfred's gaze, "we drink blood from two small holes. Granted, the blood is faster flowing at the neck, but we can drink from the veins, too."

Alfred caught his breath. "Uh, yeah," he breathed. "I see..." Honestly, he didn't understand it nor care. But those eyes challenged him to say otherwise and Alfred just knew that Arthur would be scathing about it. He stared at Arthur for a moment longer, his blue eyes trained on Arthur's. Finally, he blinked and glanced around. "So, a small one, huh?"

Once again, one of his kitchen knives was brought out. Using his weaker hand, he pressed the tip to his forearm, hoping he wouldn't slip and slash his wrist. Explaining that to a paramedic would be embarrassing.

As soon as a drop of blood was squeezed from his arm, Arthur grabbed his arm away with such violence that Alfred dropped the knife. He gasped as soft lips enveloped his cut and looked away, screwing his eyes shut. Then he had to grit his teeth from the pain as Arthur began to suck. Alfred could almost feel his blood levels dropping. If this kept up, he would become anaemic.

A low groan erupted from his lips. He bit his lip to try to stifle it but, suddenly, the pain was gone. He glanced back at Arthur and found him gazing at him, blood coating his lips. With a nod, Arthur said, "Yes, that will be quite enough, thank you."

Staring, Alfred shook his head. "Enough? You hardly had any."

"It's fine. Just remember tea tomorrow."

They both glanced at Alfred's arm where a small line of blood was oozing from the cut. Alfred was quite unprepared for Arthur catching his arm again and licking the blood up. With another gasp, he jerked away.

"What the hell was that?!"

Arthur rolled his eyes as he straightened up. "I was healing the wound. Last night, the wound was too deep, you idiot."

"Eh?!"

"What?"

"Healing?" cried Alfred, surprised. He had never heard of that fact before.

A thick eyebrow was raised. "How do you think we make more vampires? Let them bleed out?"

"Well..."

"You thought we let them die only to raise them from the dead, didn't you?" asked Arthur, scathingly.

"Um."

"Idiot. You can't bring back the dead."

It had been a simple – and true – statement but it still made Alfred flinch. Arthur froze as he noticed this. A silence descended and both of them tried not to look at each other. Alfred opened his mouth to say something about how Arthur should know, having killed so many people. It lodged in his throat and he shut his mouth as he glanced towards the man. He was staring back.

Arthur took a breath. "You must be tired. Go to bed. Just make sure you're out of it in the morning. I'll... entertain myself."

The American merely nodded and escaped from the kitchen.

* * *

Alfred had a good night's sleep and was awoken just before dawn by Arthur who demanded he get out of the bed so he could use it again. He obliged – reluctantly – but found that, when his alarm sounded a few hours later, he was able to get up the first time. After a shower, an amazing breakfast and a few comics, Alfred wandered nonchalantly to the comic book store.

It was turning into a good day, especially when he got a message during his break from the other hunters declaring a meeting. An address was attached and Alfred was happy – for a few seconds before he realised that he was not going to get any money for Arthur. He hadn't killed him nor did he have any fangs. Alfred sighed.

The day was turning into a frustrating one.

On the way home, he barely remembered to buy some tea. However, instead of a quick trip into the shop and out, it turned into around an hour of browsing the shelves and grabbing things he suddenly remembered he needed or hadn't had in a while. Finally, he approached the register with his arms full, a box of a rather posh brand of tea held tightly in one hand. If he lost the rest of his load, he could live with it. He would rather not have an angry vampire in his apartment because he had dropped the tea and it was too much effort to go back for it.

As he scanned his own items as quickly as possible, Alfred thought about him. It was an odd dilemma that pushed his way into his mind. Was Arthur still, technically, what people would class as a vampire? Sure, he still drank blood. However, that was because he was injured – or so he said. He could survive on other things such as tea. Alfred scanned the box, his eyebrows furrowed at it. What did all this mean? Were they really all that different from humans?

A memory resurfaced as he stuffed the last item into a bag and fished out his wallet. No. They were not like humans at all.

Cursing at the price, Alfred processed his purchase before hurrying off. He was relieved to get home, pushing the door closed and leaning against it. With a long sigh, he made his way into the kitchen. He froze in the doorway, finding Arthur back in his pyjamas sitting at the small table with a glass of water.

His viridian eyes rose to meet Alfred's. "Welcome home," he said with a yawn. Alfred's breath caught. No-one had said that to him in a long, long time. He bit his lip to stop himself from tearing up as Arthur continued speaking, lazily. "I hope you brought some tea. Proper tea, too. None of this iced nonsense."

"Um, yeah..." said Alfred quietly, skirting around the vampire and placing his bags on the counter. "And some other stuff, too. Mostly for me but I guess you could eat it. I got some steaks."

"Oh, good," said Arthur. Alfred heard his chair push back. "I like them raw." Alfred glanced at him and noted that Arthur still looked dangerous when he grinned, as though his fangs were still there. He shivered.

"Well, you can eat that whenever." He reached into the bag and pulled out the tea, handing it to Arthur. "I hope you like this because it cost _way_ too much for a buncha leaves."

"Hm," said Arthur, reaching into the bag and pulling out an expensive jar of coffee. "Just like this costs _way_ too much for a 'bunch' of beans."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up," he sighed, grabbing the jar back. "Anyway, since you're mooching off me, make yourself useful and put all this stuff away."

"Why should I?" snapped Arthur, glaring at Alfred once again.

"Because I have to go out."

"What?" asked Arthur, obviously surprised.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"None of your business," said Alfred, hurriedly. What would the vampire do once it knew of the meetings the hunters had every few weeks? He tried to dart around him, hoping for a quick shower before he hurried out.

"I think it _is _my business!" cried Arthur, following him. "You're my only source of food." Alfred glanced at him in alarm, stopping in his tracks. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I only meant that _you_ are the only way for me to buy things like steaks. I have no money with me. Because _someone_-"

"Okay, okay!" interrupted Alfred, holding up his hands. "I need to go meet... with some friends."

For a moment, Arthur seemed embarrassed, averting his gaze and backing away a step. Alfred couldn't tell, though – he wasn't blushing and, with his pale skin, Alfred thought it would be very obvious. Then, suddenly, his sharp gaze was lifted, eyes narrowed. "Friends? You mean other hunters, yes?"

Alfred felt the blush and could do nothing to stop it. "N-No!" he cried, laughing to cover up his embarrassment, throwing his head back so Arthur couldn't see. However, when he looked back at Arthur, the vampire was still glaring. He hesitated but sighed and gave in. "Fine... Yeah. We always have meetings."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"Nothing. Just. Well. Talking?"

"About what?" Arthur's eyes turned suspicious. "About me?"

"Um, no, probably not," Alfred replied.

"Really?" Arthur almost dripped with scepticism. "And I won't come up at all? You won't try to foist me off to someone else? Ambush me in my sleep? I would not be surprised if they wanted to torture me, either."

"No!" cried Alfred, rather too quickly for his liking. Arthur seemed a little startled. "I mean, then they'd kill you and I'd never find that hunter!"

There was a short silence which Arthur chose to break with a sigh. "Fine. I'll come along."

"What? What are you talking about? You can't-"

"How else am I going to _see_ these hunters?" asked Arthur, pointedly, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh," said Alfred. "Oh. Yeah. Um." How was he going to explain to his fellow hunters about this? "I suppose..."

"Great. I'll get my coat." Arthur paused. "Oh, wait." He smirked at Alfred before disappearing into the bedroom, presumably to get changed from his pyjamas.

* * *

Alfred really didn't want to do this. It wasn't that he cared about Arthur's well-being enough to be concerned. He didn't care if his fangs got away – not _too_ much. There was always the possibility the guy would come forward if he spread the word. It didn't bother him, either, that there was the possibility that Arthur had tricked him and was actually strong enough to take his revenge on all the hunters in the state of New York (as far as he was aware, the other hunters in other states kept within their boundaries).

No, what bothered him the most about this whole adventure was that his friends would think he was insane. They would stop trusting him. He would be isolated, unable to receive help in case he had a vampire around. 'Vampire's pet', they'd call him.

"Okay," he said to Arthur, staring up at the closed club. "Okay."

"Yes...?" Arthur sounded puzzled. Alfred decided not to check his expression. If he did, he might back out and send a message to Mat to tell him he was ill.

"Okay," Alfred repeated once more.

The noises of the street filtered into their silence. People walking, talking, laughing, shouting, screeching, living. Cars passing, growling at each other, horns blaring when they got irritated. Music from other clubs and bars and shops and theatres. The odd call of a bird. In the distance, if Alfred strained to catch it, he might hear the fog horn of a ship.

"If we're not going in, can we go?" asked Arthur, sounding quite bored. "This place smells."

"Smells?" asked Alfred, still refusing to turn around, still working himself up to go in.

"Yes. In your flat, they are dampened. But now, I can smell them. All of them."

This time, Alfred found himself glancing at Arthur. The smaller man shuddered, his eyes flitting around. A group of girls walked by, giggling a little, staring at them. Arthur swallowed a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing. Alfred frowned until the realisation washed over him.

Arthur could smell humans. He could smell their blood. There was probably a reason they had lived so out of the way. Away from the town and the city. Now he was in the midst of everything he had tried to avoid.

Not only that, Alfred thought, he had not been without his fangs in a while. They probably negated the reason to carry something to protect himself with. Anyone could attack him now and he would be utterly helpless – just like when Alfred had.

Swallowing a low feeling of guilt, Alfred turned himself fully towards Arthur. "Okay, listen." Arthur obediently concentrated on him. "When we get in here, try to be as unnoticeable as possible. Don't say anything. Try not to do that thing where you make a noise when I say something 'stupid'. And don't _look_ at them – your eyes are so unnatural that they'll know right away you're not human."

"Why, thank you," said Arthur, rather icily.

"C'mon, then," murmured Alfred, stepping forward. He opened the door and they traipsed up the stairs to the inner one. There Alfred rapped on the door twice, slow and loud.

"Oh, wow," muttered Arthur. "That is such a _complicated_ secret knock."

"Shurrup," hissed Alfred as the door opened.

It was opened by a dark-haired man. He was fair-skinned, too, and his eyes were just as dark as his hair. A dark green shirt hung loosely from his shoulders and a pair of worn jeans were tight on his hips. Smiling up at Alfred, he said, "Zdraveĭte, Alfred. It is good to see you again. And you brought... a friend?" he added as he spotted Arthur. Alfred was relieved when Arthur took a 'shy' step behind him.

"Yeah. Sorry, Aleks – he's a bit nervous."

Aleksandr nodded in understanding. "Come in," he said, stepping out of the way.

Inside, the club's dim lighting was on. Really, thought Alfred, this was so much better for a meeting of vampires. The bar was empty but the bottles lay where they had been left. A few tables had been dragged across to the middle of the dance floor and several hunters sat there. Most of them were middle-aged, gruff men. There were a few women with long, flowing hair. An older man sat at the head of the group, a cap declaring him to be HL: the Hunter Leader. He was the man who had amassed riches so vast he could pay the poor men and women who went up against vampires whenever they could.

"Alfred!" cried Mathias from across the room. The taller man, his blonde hair spiked as usual, his collapsible axe in hand, raised his other in greeting.

"Mat!" Alfred answered, hurrying across and leaving Arthur and Aleksandr in his wake. He grabbed the Dane's arm in a strong grip before he was pulled into a hug. "Any closer to figuring out that reload problem?"

The older hunter grimaced. "Nej, not yet."

"Excuse me, my boys," growled the HL.

"Yeah?" asked Alfred, turning to him. "What's up, Sam?"

"May I ask you, Al, why you have brought a vampire into our midst?"

Instantly, the friendly atmosphere changed. Weapons were produced. Aleksandr, who had been close to Arthur at the moment Sam had spoke, grabbed the poor vampire's arm. Arthur just sighed and crossed his arms.

"I-!" began Alfred but stopped upon seeing Aleksandr producing a stake from a pocket. "No, wait! Please, don't-!"

"Are you _sympathising_ with vampires?!" growled Mathias, glaring at Alfred. It was amazing how quickly people's attitudes to you could change, Alfred vaguely thought.

"No!" exclaimed Alfred. "You _know_ what they did to my family!" This seemed to catch Arthur's attention as he eyed the young hunter defending him. Alfred returned his gaze, desperate, not sure what he should say to calm everyone down.

"Then why?" asked Aleks, glaring at Arthur, not letting his guard down.

"I- It's- Well, you see-"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Alfred," sighed Arthur. Aleksandr's grip tightened on his arm. "Just hurry up and tell them. In the meantime, may I have a drink? I'm parched-" He seemed to realise what he had said because he unfolded his arms and quickly raised his arms. "And I merely mean that I would like some rum, if that's not too much trouble. This place _does_ have rum, right? None of this 'alcopop' crap."

Silence descended, sitting heavy on everyone's shoulders. Alfred didn't think that anyone had ever heard a vampire say that they wanted anything other than blood. The shock on their faces rivalled his own – since when did Arthur drink anything other than tea and blood?

Laughing nervously, Alfred shifted his weight. "Rum? I didn't think you would like alcohol. Your house was like a shrine to old man habits."

"And, as such," retorted Arthur, "I have done so much more than you. Now, if you don't mind..." With that, he used his unnatural strength to rip his arm from Aleks' grip. He spun around the hunter, stalked to the bar and, after a moment's hesitation, jumped the bar. Landing softly, he began to search through the assorted bottles. "Don't mind me," he called over his shoulder, waving his hand. "I expect you have a lot to talk about."

"Alfred," said a voice behind him and the American turned to find Sam gazing at him. "Tell us what happened."

"Well, y'see, I was on a hunt."

"We gathered that, ja," interjected Mathias.

Only nodding in response, Alfred continued. "You all know, right, that I collect fangs? Well, I was gonna gloat over Arthur by surveying-"

"Arthur?!" cried Mathias in disbelief. Alfred grimaced.

"Yes?" said Arthur from right behind them. Everyone spun around to find him sipping from a squat glass, standing right behind them. Several people tensed, their hands twitching, aiming their weapons at him. He ignored them.

"It has a _name_?" was Mathias' indignant response.

"Of course I have a name," snapped Arthur.

"That is not what I meant," growled Mat. He turned to Alfred. "Why are _you_ calling it by a name?"

"It's much better than 'Vamp'," Arthur responded before Alfred could.

"Enough!" yelled Sam. Once silence had been restored, he returned his attention to Alfred. "Tell us."

"Anyways, I was gonna gloat but, when I opened his mouth, his fangs weren't there."

"What?" asked Aleks, his eyes widening.

Arthur piped up once again and Alfred wished he'd stop making matters worse. "Is this the part where I get poked and prodded by you?" he asked. With a dramatic sigh, he threw back the rest of his rum, swallowed and glared at them. "Go ahead. You won't believe him, otherwise."

Everyone looked to Sam who nodded. Mathias stepped forward and grabbed Arthur, roughly. Alfred saw him wince and frowned slightly as Mat pulled his upper lip as far as it would go. His eyes widened and he stepped back. "There... Nothing. They have been pulled out."

"So, if you still want to kill me," said Arthur, nonchalantly, "go right ahead. I can barely survive without my fangs."

"Why didn't you kill him?" asked Sam of Alfred.

Biting his lip, Alfred turned to them. "Well, it was kinda selfish. But I want my fangs. They belong to me and I want to find the hunter that did this." Seeing that he was not winning them over – they still looked sceptical and suspicious – he groped frantically for another good excuse. Surprisingly, he found one. "Not only is he denying me but think what will happen if he continues this. There will be more and more vampires without their fangs. Strong. Desperate. More killings."

"And you need him to identify the hunter," muttered Sam, nodding. "That was good logic."

"Surprisingly," muttered Arthur behind Alfred.

"Is he living with you?" asked Mat.

"Yeah. Just till we've found the guy," replied Alfred.

"What did he look like?" asked Aleks. Alfred was surprised to find that he had turned to Arthur, he was _talking_ to Arthur. And not in a venomous tone.

"Tall, blonde, blue eyes," said Arthur, shortly.

"Hm," said Sam, his eyelids drooping slightly as he thought. "Hm, I will see what I can find."

"What will happen once you find him?" asked Mat, looking at Alfred, ignoring Arthur.

"Well, I suppose I'll ask him nicely to give me-"

"Nej, I mean – what will you do with _it_?"

"Oh," said Alfred. He glanced at Arthur who stared back at him, expressionless. "I suppose I'll just kill 'im."

"Will you be able to?"

"Mathias," said Sam, warningly.

"Of course I will!" exclaimed Alfred, angrily. How dare Mat question his ability to kill a vampire? They had both sworn to go down fighting. No-one in the room would roll over and let the vampires kill – unless it was each other.

The Dane eyed him for a moment before grabbing Alfred's wrist. With anyone else, Alfred would have flipped him over, hurt him to free himself. Instead, shocked, Alfred was yanked forward and his shirt sleeve was pushed up, revealing the bandage around the first cut. He had hoped the long sleeves would have stopped everyone from noticed. A chorus of gasps sounded.

"You are feeding it!" snapped Mathias, glaring at the young hunter as he pulled his sleeve down again. Alfred winced as it caught on the bandage. "Everyone knows what happens if you feed vampires. You, idiot, are going to end up being his Bride if you are not careful." A tense silence fell once again, everyone avoiding Alfred's eyes. Some of the hunters shifted away nervously. Alfred glanced to Arthur who was just returning from another trip to the bar, his glass full. Mathias finally acknowledged the vamp, pointing at him accusingly. "Release my friend from your spell! I will not let you wed him – or worse."

"Oh, please!" laughed Arthur, shaking his head in disbelief. "That is just a story. We do not marry, for goodness' sake. After all, how would we be able to? Marriage is a holy thing. We cannot enter a church."

"Civil partnership?" suggested Aleks.

"Ah, yes. _That_ we can do," said Arthur, dismissively. He took a sip of his rum and sighed in relief, his eyes closed.

That was when Mathias struck. He grabbed Arthur by the neck and threw him to the ground, following him down with his axe at the vampire's neck. The glass slipped from Arthur's hand and smashed on the ground, the harsh sound making everyone but the two engaged men wince.

"Lad ham gå!" snarled Mathias.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Han er fri til å gjøre som han vil med meg. Ikke test meg, menneske," he growled.

Alfred watched Mathias' eyes widen in surprise. After all, Arthur had used that language again. Was it Danish, too? But it sounded slightly different... Slowly, Mat sat up a little, moving his weapon away slightly but still close. "How do you know that?"

"I have gotten around," was Arthur's dismissive response. "Now, get off me so I can clean up."

Reluctantly, Mat did so. Immediately, Arthur sat up and began to pick up the pieces of glass. Everyone else silently watched him, wary. Alfred, meanwhile, watched Mathias. He seemed rather shocked that someone had spoken in his language – either because he was a vampire or because he sounded British. Or, maybe, it was something Arthur had said.

Deciding it would probably be a good idea to get out of there before someone got hurt, Alfred cleared his throat. "Okay, so, if anyone sees this guy, let me know, 'kay?"

"We will," Sam assured him, watching Arthur out of the corner of his eye.

"Be careful," muttered Aleksandr, putting a hand on Alfred's arm to attract his attention. Alfred nodded.

"Ah, but," said Sam, suddenly, focussing their attention on him again, "I will not be able to pay you for your hunt, Alfred. You haven't killed him, yet."

The younger hunter merely nodded and turned to Arthur. He was standing now, the glass shards cupped in his hands. "What was that? Pay?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Alfred muttered as he took Arthur's arm. "Sam pays us for every vamp we take down."

"And they're not going to pay you?" asked Arthur, loudly. Alfred grimaced. "You _caught_ me – surely that counts for something?" Arthur stopped at the bar, dropped the pile of glass and turned to the other hunters. "Surely he should get some kind of pay for... putting up with me."

Sam surveyed both him and Alfred, the American shifting from foot to foot in nervousness. Then, finally, he gave a nod, reaching into the bag at his feet. Surprised, Alfred crossed the room and Sam gave him a pile of notes. "This is half of the normal rate. You'll get the rest when it's dead."

Alfred nodded and hurried back to Arthur who watched the exchange, nonplussed. "C'mon," he muttered to his companion, grabbing his elbow once again. He dragged Arthur from the club, intending to have a nice chat with him once he got him back to the apartment.

* * *

"What was that?" asked Alfred once he had pushed Arthur onto the couch.

The vampire looked up at him, blankly. "What was what?"

"Why did you _speak_? I told you not to! Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Arthur glanced out of the window. The lights of New York City twinkled beyond the open blinds. Reflections in the bay flickered distantly. A weary look passed across Arthur's face and Alfred realised why he had acted out. "You _want_ to die?" he exclaimed, moving around Arthur to stand in his way.

Wordlessly, Arthur lifted his gaze back to Alfred. The American was arrested by those glowing eyes and they stared at each other in silence. Finally, Arthur spoke. "They do not frighten me, Alfred. I have been around for far too long for humans to scare me. You are all so easily broken or moulded. And I..." He trailed off.

Alfred's eyebrows drew together. "You _should_ be frightened. Any one of them could come here in the middle of the day and kill you."

"I am not afraid of them," Arthur reiterated.

Shaking his head, Alfred sat next to Arthur, staring at him. "You're not making any sense. I mean, don't you _want_ your immortality?" Arthur looked back at him, his face blank. Alfred wondered, suddenly, how long it had taken to perfect that expression. "You... How long have you been alive?"

Without a word, Arthur stood. "Long enough to know that it's definitely high time for some tea." And he left Alfred sitting on the couch, wondering if he had somehow captured one of the first vampires.

* * *

_**Well, has he? Maybe he has, maybe he hasn't. Who knows? (Me, but hush.)  
**_

_**Alfred has a bad track record at the comic shop - if he's late again, he's gonna get fired. Or so his boss says. It's a running joke that he'll sleep in one time (instead of being off hunting, etc.) and get sacked. (The boss doesn't know he hunts but he does know he has another job which pays by commission.)**_

_**There was a reason for Arthur's "You're American" comment when Alfred said he didn't drink tea. May or may not be told later. It's not terribly important. **_

_**Oh, yeah! Translations! (Mathias speaks Danish and Arthur speaks Norwegian. For reasons.)**_

_**Lad ham gå! = Let him go!**_

_**Han er fri til å gjøre som han vil med meg. Ikke test meg, menneske. = He is free to do as he pleases with me. Do not test me, human. (This is close to the Danish for this so I thought that is how they can understand each other. = Han er fri til at gøre som han vil med mig. Må ikke teste mig, menneske.)**_

_**Aleksandr is Bulgaria! So that word when he greets them is the Bulgarian for "Hello". **_

_**Speaking of Norwegian - I swear, he'll turn up in the next chapter. Honest. Possibly. Maybe. Well... Yeah.**_

_**I made up the whole healing saliva thing mainly because I didn't want Alfred to be cut up all the time. But I thought it would be neat (and possibly help with the plot/theme/is there a theme?) if vampires were not created by killing them and bringing them back to life. It's just something they can generate in their saliva when they bite someone they want to stay alive. Forever.**_

_**Although Mat seems overly annoyed at Arthur, the rest of the hunters are just as angry. They're just better at keeping themselves in control. Aleks, especially. Or so I decided.**_

_**Arthur didn't get drunk because vampire's use alcohol as food. If he drank so much that he was sated in thirst and hunger (it'd have to be a lot), THEN he would get drunk. But he only had a couple of glasses. Or three. I don't really know how much he drank while Alfred's attention was elsewhere.**_

_**Vampires also can't blush - that'd be a waste of precious blood they don't have.**_

_**Also, I've realised... These first chapters are establishing characters and backgrounds.**_


End file.
